


The Dangers of Endermen and Other Strange Creatures

by nothereforlong



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Because that makes his character design fun, Dream gets unreasonably angry at a child, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I spent like a third of this work describing the sun whoops, In this household we love and appreciate Niki, Local Pig God Tries his Best, Manipulation, Ranboo is part enderman in this, Tommy is actually in the story now yay, also cause he's Stupidly Tall, i guess?, the Tommy exile arc ain't fun folks, there will be later on at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothereforlong/pseuds/nothereforlong
Summary: Nothing instills fear in a fearless being like a tall child who just wants to be friendlyor alternatively:Techno runs into Ranboo for the first time while on a walk in the forest and is less than thrilled. Ranboo just wants his crown back, thank you very much.or, alternatively alternatively:The author gets carried away and plans out a whole story for something that was only supposed to be a oneshot.
Relationships: Ranboo & Niki | Nihachu, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 1104





	1. First impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm writing fan fiction about block men, what has my life become. Oh well, any writing practice is good writing practice, right?

The walk was supposed to be a calming experience.

And it was working, too - the gentle atmosphere provided by the soft leaves and green hues of the forest were quite calming. Tommy had been getting on his _very last nerve,_ and Techno needed to get away before he did something that he’d get in trouble with Phil for. Techno was grateful for the chance at a nice solitary walk anyway. It allowed him to clear his head, which was usually buzzing with battle tactics or farming schematics or detailed personal information on the other members of the server (“know your enemy” and all that). The respite was nice, and it seemed to echo the gentle glow of the cloudless blue sky above.

Techno was distracted from the mindful emptiness of his head by a golden glimmer among the foliage. He leaned down to pick up the object, baffled at how it had made its home in such a spot. It was a crown - Techno knew of no other object that cast such a golden reflection among its surroundings - and that only confused him more. He absentmindedly reached up to his head, wondering how on earth he had managed to lose-

Oh.

Techno’s fingers brushed against his crown which remained as he had left it, nestled in his pink hair. His curiosity grew as he scooped the unidentified (although now definitely not his) crown off the forest floor. It wasn’t Eret’s - his was silver - and although it was similar in color the crown was quite unlike Techno’s own. The crown was taller, the elongated spikes coming to a dull point at the top, and the multicolored jewels encircling it dark and dim as if in need of a shining. It was relatively unique, and Techno had never seen it before.

Looking up from the crown, he turned in a circle, scanning the leaves for any sign of the crown’s owner or any clues as to who even owned it in the first place. Right as he was about to give up, Techno spied something dark through the trees, something that looked like it might be a figure. 

With a tad bit of apprehension, Techno picked his way through the forest, sidestepping bushes and stray branches as he approached the being. Soon, he was able to see where the trees dropped off into a small clearing beside a short cliff. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, it’s legs dangling over the edge, was a ...creature.

Techno didn’t know what it was - it, like the crown, was completely new to him. Whatever it was, it was relatively humanoid in shape and clearly bipedal, although its limbs were strangely long. It appeared to be wearing a suit - in the back of his mind Techno wondered with some amusement at where it had gotten such an article of clothing that certainly had to have been specifically tailored to fit its odd frame - and its hair was a fluffy mix of black and white. Techno was creeping closer, attempting to determine the nature of the creature, when a loud _snap_ echoed through the air.

Techno was not known for his stealth abilities, and in his interest with the strange creature he had accidentally stepped on a twig, splitting it with a noise that seemed to echo for miles through the otherwise silent forest.

The creature turned around, and Techno was filled with an emotion that definitely wasn’t fear. Techno wasn’t afraid of anything, especially strangely tall beings in suits.

But the being in question seemed even less human-like as it whipped around to face Techno. Its skin appeared to be split in two - the left side of its face was pale and lightly mottled, which was a tad odd but nothing terribly disturbing. The right side of its face was a deep, soulless black that somehow managed to be both painfully clear and slightly fuzzy, like the static from Tommy’s jukebox when it needed to be fixed. 

The creatures' eyes too were different colors. The left eye, similar to the rest of its left side, was an odd color - bright red - but otherwise normal. The right eye was just as unnervingly strange as the rest of the right side, neon green and glowing intensely.

The intimidating figure cocked its head slightly, as if in curiosity or acknowledgement, and it made a noise so startling that Tencho dropped the crown he was holding. He wasn’t sure what sound he expected the creature to make, but it definitely wasn’t the aggressive, adrenaline-inducing buzz of an enderman.

Making the tactical decision to _nope the hell out of there_ Techno turned and ran in the way only the most dignified of warriors do, leaving the terrifying and strange enderman-human-monster-thing in the metaphorical dust.

___________________________

Ranboo was taking advantage of the beautiful weather. He didn’t usually come out much during the day, opting instead to reside in the expansive natural and man-made tunnels systems that snaked across the server. But the sun shone brightly, and a gentle breeze calmed the fizzling burn that the daylight cast across his skin. He sat on the overhang of a small cliff right outside the treeline of the forest, swinging his legs back and forth as he gazed at the bright expanse of blue spread out before him. His head felt lighter than usual, which was a bit off-putting - he had lost his crown to a stray branch earlier and hadn’t yet bothered to search for it - but otherwise was undistracted from the serene view of the forests that stretched out beneath him.

In the distance he spied the outline of a large castle. He knew that beyond the castle were more buildings scattered almost sporadically across the land, but he couldn’t see them from his current vantagepoint. 

There were many buildings on the server, filled with history and people with which Ranboo was only vaguely familiar. The prettiest structure was probably the castle that he could see outlined against the sky. It was constructed by someone named Eret, he thinks, and it was very colorful. Ranboo liked colorful things.

Color was relatively scarce for Ranboo though - he existed mainly in the darkness of caves or under the washed-out light of the moon, his world subsisting of the greyed-out hues of nightime. Maybe that was one of the reasons the buildings above ground interested him so. They weren’t particularly aesthetic. Many of the houses and towers consisted of plain wood and rough cobble, while creepers and arson made quick work of whatever visually-appealing elements were left. Still, the patchworks builds seemed full of a certain vibrancy and life that Ranboo envied. 

_Snap_

Ranboo’s mindless daydreaming was broken by the sound of a snapping twig. Turning to see the source of the noise, Ranboo came face-to-face with a man standing just outside the treeline.

He was tall, for a human, and wore an outfit of royalty. He had long pink hair tied up in a braid, which was topped with a stout golden crown. In his hands he held another crown, which Ranboo quickly identified as his own.

Quickly running through his log of information he had gathered by eavesdropping in caves, Ranboo determined that this new presence must be Techno, the server’s resident anarchist. Ranboo had only seen the man once, while traversing the underground ravine that had been transformed into a little sub-nation (something-topia? Ranboo wasn’t sure) but his appearance was unmistakable.

Techno said nothing and continued to stare, Ranboo’s crown still tucked between his hands. Ranboo figured he should say something, like _nice day, isn’t it?_ or _hey thanks for finding my crown!_ or maybe even _why are you staring at me?_ Instead Ranboo tilted his head, opting for a simple “Techno” as greeting.

The man stared for a second more, before muttering “no”, dropping the crown, and disappearing back into the woods.

_Oh._ Ranboo thought to himself. _Oh boy, that’s not a great start._

He pulled himself up off the cliff edge and made his way to the tree line to retrieve his dropped crown. _Uh, maybe “_ no _” just means “_ you seem cool _”_

Ranboo placed the newly un-lost crown on his head and wandered along the edge of the forest. The midday sun was starting to get to him, but he wanted to explore at least a little more before retiring to the darkness of the caves. A weird blue statue had been recently constructed on the roof of the mansion made from quartz. Maybe he’d go look at that.

Perhaps he would run into Techno again later, maybe then he could thank the man for finding his crown.


	2. Lava, Flowers, and the Art of Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo struggles while in the nether. Two children bond over petty theft.

Ok so. The nether was maybe a poor idea.

Ranboo admits this to himself as he races along an exposed netherite overpass, the large, white, screaming  _ thing _ fast on his tail. Ranboo didn’t know what it was - he didn’t know what anything here was, the boiling red hellscape of the nether even more terrifying with its unfamiliarity. 

Ranboo ducked as the flying creature spit another ball of flaming rock. It smashed into the overpass beside him, sparks catching on his suit as the molten projectile exploded on impact. Ranboo quickened his pace further as panic set in, but the white creature was a step ahead. It swerved ahead of him, letting out one final fireball aimed straight at his face. 

Ranboo flung his arms in front of him to protect himself, covering his eyes and waiting for the inevitable impact. Instead, he felt the entire world shift and buzz around him, giving him a slight headache and a strong sense of vertigo. When everything stilled, he was (thankfully) not dead, and his surroundings felt significantly darker.

Dropping his arms and glancing around, Ranboo realized he was in a completely different place. He was still the nether - the oppressive heat and mild smell of sulfur clung to his skin like dust - but the netherite bridge was long gone and there was no lava in sight. He was in a cave, surrounded by dull, reddish-maroon rock.

He must have teleported there. Ranboo’s enderman qualities were flighty as best, and he hadn’t had an involuntary teleportation incident in months. He hadn't had a controlled teleportation ever - he had no idea how he managed to move instantly from place to place, it just happened on instinct - usually when he was in danger.

Like, for example, if there was a gigantic flying monster spitting fireballs at him.

With a long suffering sigh, Ranboo made his way towards a tunnel to his right, the only visible exit to the cave. As he meandered along it, he ran one hand along the walls cramping him in. Netherite dust crumbled off the wall, painting his hand and the side of his suit a subdued red. Ranboo normally would’ve been upset about sullying his clothes, but the suit jacket was already peppered with scorchmarks and small fire-induced holes so he couldn’t really be bothered.

The tunnel exited out to a wide ledge that snaked across the side of a cliff. The lava bubbled menacingly below, and Ranboo did his best to hug the cliff face as continued on. Theoretically he shouldn’t have teleported too far away, but his surroundings remained staunchly unrecognizable.

“Am I going the right direction?” Ranboo asked, mostly to himself as there was no one else around. He looked around, but saw nothing but empty expanses of lava. The boiling substance glimmered a bright red-gold, and it might have even been impressive if it wasn’t so horribly deadly. Instead, the bright hot pools served only as a drear reminder of the nether’s dangers.

Ranboo stuck a hand in his pocket nervously and came across a small violet flower he had picked earlier, before he made the rash decision to take the portal to the lava hell he was stuck in. He pulled it out and spun it about in his fingers, comforted by the tiny soft petals. Sure, he was lost, but at least he had a pretty flower with him.

As Ranboo rounded a bend he saw the netherite bridge from earlier, thankfully without the angry firebreathing monster floating ahead. “Oh- oh I am going the right direction. Ok, we’re good.”

Ranboo wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to. The flower, maybe? Throughout his self-imposed exile in the caves and tunnels of the server, Ranboohad picked up the habit of talking quietly to himself. Maybe that was a bit pathetic, but at least it made him less lonely.

As he reached the end of the bridge, Ranboo saw a figure standing near the portal, half hidden behind the dark obsidian blocks. The figure stepped into full view as he approached, and Ranboo saw that it was a child - probably around his age, with blonde hair, a red and white shirt, and eyes that seemed to gleam with a permanent mischief. Ranboo came to a stop in front of him, offering a small “Hello.”

The boy simply stared him down, with a look not dissimilar to the one Techno gave him just hours before. It was almost as if the two were related.

“Uh oh,” Ranboo muttered, again to himself. Their little standoff gave him heavy déjà vu, and he felt more and more uneasy the longer the boy stared. In a feeble attempt at conversation, Ranboo hesitantly asked if the boy was ok.

The stranger still didn’t reply, and Ranboo, becoming genuinely a bit concerned for his well-being, held the purple flower he still clutched in his hand out as a peace offering.

Unfortunately for them both, Ranboo had forgotten how long his arms were and succeeded only in inadvertently smacking the boy upside the head with his metaphorical olive branch.

This broke the boy out of his stupor immediately. “Did- did you just fucking hit me?” he yelled, gesticulating wildly.

“No, no, it was an accident! I meant to give you the flower, I just misjudged the distance! Here.” Ranboo tossed the flower over to the boy, who had backed up significantly during their interaction. “Have the flower.”

The boy was silent for a second, contemplating the failed peace offering. Then he spoke up, muttering “What, do you- What, do you like flowers or something?”

“Yeah.” Ranboo replied earnestly. He liked flowers. They were very pretty and almost never grew in caves, so he liked to collect them on his rare ventures outside. “Yeah I do.”

“Alright. Ok, come with me.” The boy instructed. Ranboo, a bit confused but grateful that the boy wasn’t running away from him, complied.

“Are you busy?” The boy asked as they walked.

“No, not really.” It was the truth - Ranboo had no plans for the rest of the afternoon. In fact, he could hardly remember why he had been in the nether in the first place. He was running from the flying monster, he knew, but what was he doing before that? Ranboo tried to recall any of the time between his interaction with Techno and his encounter with the floating ghost of death, but he just drew a blank. That was perhaps a bit concerning, but Ranboo was used to forgetting things so he paid it little mind.

The boy eventually introduced himself as Tommy. “Um, I don’t know if- nice to mee- Well, it wasn’t nice to meet you. You made a terrible, terrible first impression on me.” 

_ Wow, this child can barely make it through a sentence without interrupting himself,  _ Ranboo thought. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or exasperated.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I do. I tend to have that effect on people.” Ranboo recalled the event earlier in the woods and grimaced internally.

The two were still walking as they conversed, Tommy leading with purpose. The boy asked for Ranboo’s name, which he supplied, then continued on about this guy who called him “angry all the time” Ranboo listened to Tommy’s ironically rage-fuled rant about how he  _ wasn’t always angry god dammit.  _ It was a wonder, to Ranboo, how easily friendly this stranger had become. Ranboo had literally hit him in the face (ableit accidentally) and yet Tommy just prattled on as if they were already good friends. It was nice. Ranboo didn’t really have friends, since most of the time he spent above ground was during the dead of night. It’s not terribly easy to meet people when you’re chronically nocturnal.

And so, when Tommy proposed a scheme of theft and vandalization, Ranboo gladly accepted. It seemed much more interesting than wandering about aimlessly, which is what he had been doing before. And besides, people stole things and griefed buildings all the time - they rarely even used the cover of darkness to hide their actions, committing arson and petty theft and sometimes even murder (though only when they knew the victim could respawn) completely in the open.

They wouldn’t wouldn’t get in trouble.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I was like a third into this chapter when I had to tweak some things, cause apparently Ranboo's character canonically doesn't have eyelids? 
> 
> Anyway, writing always takes deceptively long so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update. I'll also have to keep up with the streams better if I want to produce anything remotely similar to the dream smp cannon, which is strange, disjointed, and constantly changing. At the very least, the variety makes for interesting storytelling.


	3. Conversing with Women (Tommy would be jealous)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo meets another new friend and is enlightened with information on the server and its eccentric residents. Also, Dream yells a a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many hours of vods to catch up on. Why. Why is there already so much plot for the second season please just give us some filler episodes. I'm dying over here.

The man with the white mask was quite angry. Ranboo couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but he assumed it had something to do with the massive obsidian walls that had been constructed around L’manburg seemingly overnight.

The harsh dark stone towered several feet above even Ranboo’s excessive height, and it circled the damaged nation so close that it hugged the buildings on the outskirts. Dream, as Ranboo had learned the masked man was called, had apparently been responsible for this atrocity.

It was a revenge plot, reconciliation for the damage Tommy and Ranboo had done to the vacation home of someone - Jerry? Gerome, maybe? Ranboo couldn’t remember the man’s name, but whoever he was he seemed to be good friends with Dream. Dream was very angry.

Tommy was playing the innocence card _hard_ , though Ranboo knew it was ultimately pointless. Arson (as well as other general property damage) was very much Tommy’s style, and his name was written all over the crime. That didn’t exactly excuse Dream’s out-of-proportion response, though. Ranboo almost wanted to say something in defence of Tommy, who was a literal child and hadn’t done anything worse than the crimes everyone else on the server committed, but no one knew who he was and the last thing he wanted was to make _even more_ terrible first impressions.

And so here Ranboo was, hovering on the sidelines and paying half-attention to the ongoing conflict. 

He was startled out of his thoughts when a woman approached. She was short (compared to Ranboo) and blonde-headed like Tommy, but unlike Tommy she seemed to radiate kindness instead of chaos. Ranboo immediately liked her.

She introduced herself as Niki, and she seemed undaunted by his menacing appearance. Ranboo was so taken aback by her friendliness that he stuttered through telling her his name, the slight buzz underneath his words more prominent than usual.

“Wait, what is that? How are you doing that?” Niki asked, though not unkindly.

“Doing what?” Ranboo replied with some apprehension. He didn’t think he had done anything particularly reprehensible in the past five seconds, but he could never be sure.

“That noise when you speak.” Niki clarified. “It sounds like- It’s almost like an enderman?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t actually know, really. It just sort of… happens, when I talk, I guess.”

“Huh.” Niki seemed intrigued, but she didn’t press any further. “Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before, and you’re pretty noticeable. I feel like I would have seen you, like, at least once before if you weren't new.”

Ranboo fiddled with a blade of grass he had pulled out of the ground below him. The two were sitting now, in the quiet shade of the obsidian walls. Tommy was still yelling at Dream in the distance.

“I spend most of my time underground. I mean, I do go out. I’m not a cave dweller. But only at nighttime, so I don’t see too many people.”

“Why don’t you go out during the day?” Niki inquired gently.

Ranboo grunted. “Th’ sun burns.” It was true - Ranboo wasn’t sure if it was his enderman nature or Something Else entirely, but sunlight had always felt like acid pouring over his skin - hot and sparkly, like tiny pieces of glass embedded in his face and arms. That was why he had isolated himself so much - it wasn’t that Ranboo didn’t like people, just that he couldn’t realistically be around them. 

Also, maybe they were a tad scary. Ranboo had seen server members out and about at night before, whether they were just completing some evening errands or had decided to go on midnight escapades. Their laughter rang infectiously through the night, and Ranboo would creep up behind a shadowed building or stray tree just to watch them converse. He would be long out of sight by morning, however, so no one ever noticed him.

But it was different now - something had happened. It was something large, something eventful - Ranboo knew that much. Some sort of conflict, maybe? A war? He only remembered bits and pieces - a man yelling, blood covering the ground, a great, big, earth-shattering _boom-_

Whatever it was, it seemed to have realigned some of Ranboo’s more eccentric abilities and functions. The most prominent being his reaction to sunlight - It didn’t burn him anymore! Ok, so it did burn a little, but it had tamed itself to a manageable fizzle. Thus was the reason for Ranboo’s recent daylight adventures. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad of the change or not. He had always thought his weird light aversion was a protection from whatever was lurking on the server’s surface, but now he wasn’t so sure. Two of the three people he had met so far seemed nice enough, no one had attempted to murder him (yet), and the gentle glow of the sun as it sank towards the horizon was so much more beautiful then the moon could ever hope to be.

Ranboo realized that he had been pulled into a deep distraction with his thoughts, and hadn’t heard anything that Niki had said in the past ten minutes. She saw his guiltily confused expression and laughed lightly.

“That’s ok, I assumed you probably weren't listening to me anyway. You had a very far-away look on your face.”

“Do you think Tommy will get in a lot of trouble?” Ranboo asked.

“I’m not sure. The child tends to attract trouble a lot, but he’s good at getting out of things. He’ll certainly be in some trouble. Dream seems pretty mad.”

The two turned their attention back towards the people clustered near the door of the obsidian wall. The yelling seemed to have ceased for the most part, and Dream was now engaged in a tense-looking discussion with the brown-haired boy who apparently ruled L’manburg. Ranboo thought he looked a bit young to be president, but he appeared to be more responsible and level-headed than Tommy. A low bar, but encouraging nonetheless.

Standing slightly behind the president were two people that Ranboo was unfamiliar with. Well, one was a person. The other was a humanoid, bipedal fox in a fancy coat. He stood slightly shorter than Tommy, and his fluffy orange and white face was unusually expressive for a medium-sized forest animal. Ranboo wondered if the fox-man was a hybrid like him, or if there was some other reason for his strange appearance.

Part animal or not, the fox creature was leagues more civilized than his companion, who seemed to have forgone wearing clothes for this particular meeting. Ranboo wasn’t sure whether he should be scandalized or amused by the man's nakedness, but the baffling combination of the two figures, standing by patiently as a literal child talked politics with the leader of a neighboring nation, created an incredibly surreal scene. Ranboo wondered idly if he was dreaming (no pun intended), before coming to the conclusion that not even his subconscious could come up with something so wild.

Ranboo turned back to Niki, an inquiring look on his face. She must have noticed his staring, because she gave a small chuckle. (Niki laughed a lot. Ranboo appreciated her cheeriness, it made his mood improve just by proxy.)

“You don’t know who any of those people are, do you?”

“I’m very lost.” Ranboo replied, with a touch of desperation. He had only been out of the tunnels for a day, and this was what he had to deal with?

Niki pointed to the humanoid fox. “Ok, so that’s Fundy, he’s Wilber’s son. Wilbur is- Wilbur-” Niki hesitated briefly, her eyes going distant as if recalling old memories. “Well, that's not important. Next to Fundy is Quackity. He was a major part of the previous cabinet, when the country was under the Schlatt administration. Now, Schlatt…”

And so, Niki went through the server person by person, describing each with a short list of character traits, accomplishments, and physical features so that Ranboo could identify them in person. Ranboo was absolutely enraptured by her words, putting names to the few people he’d seen in passing and faces to the voices he’d overhear in the dead of night, sneaking past cozy houses lit by sleepless residents. He also listened with intrigue as she provided bits of history and background of the server and its independent nations. She seemed to skirt around the more painful memories, but it was enough to paint Ranboo a muddy picture of war and betrayal and heartbreak - dark times in recent history that sat parallel to her tales of hope and revolution, like a brooding shadow. There was more to the story he knew, he could just barely remember-

_A man yelling. Blood covering the ground. A great, big, earth-shattering boom._

Ok, maybe he should stop trying to remember stuff.

The sun had almost disappeared completely behind the mountains when Niki finished her little instructional speech. It was chilly - a small but persistent breeze had picked up, and the fading sunlight cast icy shadows across the ground. The encroaching darkness instilled a sense of grim familiarity within Ranboo, as he was once again pulled into nighttime’s unforgiving embrace. He had grown quite fond of the sun over the course of the day, and he was almost sad to see it go.

Whatever meeting had been happening between the president (Ranboo now knew his name - Tubbo!) and Dream seemed to be wrapping up as well, as both the participants and the onlookers began to retire to their respective houses for the evening. Ranboo was a tad discouraged at the idea of heading back underground, but he could tell that the night would be frigid, and he preferred depressing stone walls to hypothermia. As he turned to leave, however, a voice stopped him.

“Hey, do you have somewhere to stay for the night? I know you’re new, so you probably don’t have a house, right?” Niki called.

“Oh, I was- I was just gonna go stay in the caves, you know- I mean it’s warm… under… it’s warmer underground?” The more Ranboo spoke, the more pathetic he realized he must sound. But Niki, angel that she was, merely offered him a smile.

“You can stay with me, if you want. Or others - I’m sure we can find people with extra space.”

“That’s… very kind of you, actually.” Ranboo said, a bit stunned. “I’ll think about it?”

He did indeed think about it, as he left the borders of L’manburg and wandered about the surrounding countryside. He couldn’t see any of the houses in L’manburg itself, due to the great I-hate-Tommy walls constructed by Dream, but there was a small potato farm here and a modest cobblestone building there. Even the emptier parts of the server seemed lived-in, marked with history and meaning.

As he approached an entrance to the network of underground caves, Ranboo hesitated. The black of the tunnel was like a void, endlessly darker than the star-studded night sky. The icy wind tugged at his suit, which was still torn and littered with scorch marks. Ranboo very much did not want to spend the night in the caves.

“Oh well,” he said to himself, breaking the chilly silence of the evening. “It’ll only be temporary, and I mean she _did_ offer. She wouldn’t have offered if she wasn’t being serious. Probably.”

And with that, Ranboo turned his back on the gaping tunnel entrance and headed back towards the bright lights of L’manburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iiiiiiiii have no overarching plans for this fic so I'm probably gonna do, like, some storyboarding or something before the next chapter. Yknow, so everything is consistent and not all-over-the-place, which is sorta the direction it's headed now.
> 
> Also, I'm considering writing some holiday oneshots in honor of the great month of December, but one project at a time.


	4. Cold Nights with Cold Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo has a bit of a breakdown, but a passing undead spirit cheers him up. In other news, Quackity is acting strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I think this is where the story will start to diverge from canon - I'll still include major plot points (like the whole Tommy-exile thing) but individual details and the overall story arc will be different. After all, it's hard to write perfectly cannon fiction for a something that's still ongoing, like the smp. Plus, I have some ideas for the rest of the story that I'm quite excited about, now that I've planned more things out. Hopefully the chapters will get longer too - they've been a bit short recently, I apologize.

Ranboo felt lonelier than he ever did in the caves. Time moved impossibly slowly, the days slogging on with no clear distinction between them. The cold, imposing obsidian bordering L’manburg was gradually being removed, but for now the towering ruins of the half-built walls stood like a silent monster against the stars shining faintly in the night sky.

Ranboo’s fingers were scraped and dust-covered, as he tore chucks of the offending material out of the wall with his bare hands. He knew this was probably bad for him - he could feel the pain of the freshly-forming bruises and skin rubbed raw from the rough obsidian, but it was muted, floating in the back of his mind as a mild observation, like when the wind is slightly too chilly or when one’s armor is slightly too small. An annoyance, really, drowned out by the anger bubbling in his mind.

Ranboo was  _ so angry.  _ Angry at Dream for exileing Tommy, angry at Tommy for griefing George’s house, angry at Tubbo for going along with it all like a stupid dormat, unwilling to stick up for anyone. Ranboo was angry at the world for taking away the first friends he’d ever made, so soon after he made them. All the smiles and laughter that rang through L’manburg the few precious days before Tommy’s exile were gone now, replaced with quiet voices and downcast looks. And the walls, the stupid, ugly, overbearing purple monstrocities of rock, they stood as an agonizing representation of nation’s most recent loss. Just seeing them made Ranboo’s vision swim and his head spin, and unfathomable rage making his brain go fuzzy while simultaneously throwing his senses into crystal-clear sharpness. Time seemed to evaporate against his fury, becoming yet another meaningless thought that flew about his racing mind.

Ranboo didn’t know how long it had been when he finally calmed, lowering his arms and stepping back from the walls. He viewed the consequences of his destructive nature, eyes scanning over the afflicted wall. Long gouges ran through the obsidian at a little lower than eye-level, some reaching all the way to the wall’s opposite side. A sizable amount of purple and black rubble lay in a haphazard pile against the wall. Individual pieces ranged from insect-sized slivers to large chunks the size of Ranboo’s head.

Legs still shaky, Ranboo lowered himself to the ground. The pain in his hands was beginning to register, and he could feel the slow drip of blood as it rolled off his fingers and onto the grass below.

Ranboo didn’t actually blame Tommy or Tubbo for Tommy’s exile. Tommy was still so very young, and the punishment he was serving far outweighed the severity of his crime. There was no way he would’ve burned down that house if he knew what the consequences would be.

And Tubbo, Ranboo just felt sorry for the boy. He did not envy Tubbo in the slightest - the president was faced with an impossible choice, of which there was no right answer. Dream had forced his hand, and now Tubbo had to live with the guilt of dooming his best friend to a life of loneliness in exile. 

“Oh, it looks like you got a bit angry there.” a quiet, softly scratchy voice came from the dark, startling Ranboo. “That’s ok. The walls are a good choice for something to take your anger out on.”

Ranboo turned and saw a pale, translucent figure floating a few feet away from him. It was hard to make out any of the figure’s features in the weak starlight, but Ranboo only knew one see-through person.

“Hey Ghostbur.” Ranboo greeted, his voice still rough from his recent bout of emotion. Ranboo had only met the undead spirit recently, but he seemed nice enough. He also would disappear for short periods of time, presumably to keep Tommy company in exile. Ranboo appreciated that - the last thing he wanted was for his new friend to go crazy so soon after being thrown out. Ghostbur’s very presence was inherently calming, although Ranboo found that spending large amounts of time with the ghost made his recurring nightmares worse.

_ A man yelling. Blood covering the ground. A great, big, earth-shattering boom. _

Ranboo had no idea where it came from. Ghostbur was generous, soft-spoken, and sweet. His soft humor was nothing like the cruel, manic words of the unidentified man in Ranboo’s dreams. He knew that Ghostbur used to be Wilbur, back before he died, and that Wilbur had supposedly lost his mind or something. Ranboo couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone named Wilbur, so the yelling man in his dreams must be someone else. Or at least, that’s what Ranboo would try to convince himself whenever he noticed that he was unconsciously hiding from the good-tempered ghost.

“Your hand looked pretty banged up there.” Ghostbur offered, rather unhelpfully. “My son is good with medicine. He- he probably won't want to see me…” the ghost trailed off dejectedly, before picking back up his enthusiasm. “He’s very talented; I’m very proud of him, my little champion! He’ll take good care of your cuts and such.”

The stinging in Ranboo’s hand was growing more and more intense, so he didn’t protest as Ghostbur's chilly intangible hand hoisted him up by the armpits (Like a toddler, ranboo thought with some animosity) and set him on his feet, before quietly guiding him towards Fundy’s house. He left Ranboo on the doorstep, giving only a small, mournful glance at the closed front door before floating off. Ranboo knew that Wilbur had been Fundy’s father, but there was so much family drama and heartbreak that he stayed away from the issue and kept his nose in his own business. He didn’t know much about the whole situation in general, but he didn’t like seeing Ghostbur sad. The man was kind-hearted and sincere. Ranboo glanced at the Blue the ghost had pressed into his hand before leaving, and wondered what had happened to Wilbur to make him into the aggressive and hopeless monster he’d heard about in stories.

__________

The sun was just starting to peak over the hills when Ranboo left Fundy’s house, with fresh bandages and a warning to “not go tearing down walls with your bare hands, you fucking idiot.” Ranboo knew the Fox-hybrid meant well, and was just worried. He was one of the few other people in L’manburg that Ranboo had started to become friends with. Unfortunately, between Ranboo’s poor taste in crime partners and Fundy’s unresolved daddy issues, the two of them were usually too busy to spend much time together.

It seemed like most citizens of L’manburg were too busy to spend time with Ranboo. Everyone had their own personal issues to deal with - life on the server had been messy and complicated the past few months, and no one had gotten out unscathed. Sometimes Ranboo found himself wanting to confide in Niki, but he didn’t want to trouble her or burden her with his overly-complicated emotions. He already loved Niki with all his heart - or at least the parts of his heart that were capable of love - as she was sweet and forgiving and looked after him like an older sister would. Ranboo had found that he got attached to people remarkably easily. Maybe that’s why he was so strangely torn up over Tommy’s exile. Or perhaps it was simply the unfairness of it all. Even thinking about Dream left a sour taste in Ranboo’s mouth.

Ranboo didn’t really blame Tubbo - it was Dream who had forced his hand, who had made him choose between the two things he loved the most, his country and his best friend. The server’s reigning tyrant seemed to get an almost sadistic pleasure, watching lives and friendships crumble in his grasp. Ranboo hated it. Ranboo hated  _ him,  _ although he didn’t entirely know why. Sure, Dream had been nasty and unfair in the situation with Tommy, but Ranboo felt that it went farther than that. He felt there was some puzzle piece that he was missing, some crucial bit of information that he had forgotten.

Ranboo was  _ always  _ forgetting things.

The other reason he didn’t blame Tubbo, Ranboo remembered as he greeted the president in the chill of the dawn, was because Tubbo clearly blamed himself enough for the both of them. Tubbo seemingly blamed himself enough for the entirety of L’manburg. The shame and guilt was written all over his face, and when he responded to Ranboo’s wave the light in his smile failed to reach his eyes. Tubbo slumped back over as he continued his morning rounds, a hand coming up to idly fiddle with the red tie around his neck. Ranboo watched him go, his heart aching with sympathy.

Ranboo was startled by Ghostbur for the second time in only a few short hours, the translucent figure swooping up to him enthusiastically. “Hey, Ranboo, would you like to come mining with me? I need iron for a gift I’m making, and I can’t hold a pickaxe very well.”

“Can’t you just borrow or buy it from someone else?” Ranboo offered.

“Then it’s not as meaningful! The amount of work you put into a gift gives it sentiment, you know.” Ghostbur replied, booping Ranboo on the nose. His fingers were as icy as always.

“Does the person you’re giving this gift to even care about sentimental value?” Ranboo called over his shoulder, already heading back to his house to grab mining supplies. It wasn’t like he had any other plans for the day.

Ghostbur hummed thoughtfully. “I think Tommy could use some sentiment, now that he’s exiled and all.”

Ranboo stopped in his tracks. “Wait, if you’re visiting Tommy again can you bring him this note?” 

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his suit pocket and handed it to Ghostbur, who nodded. “I’ll try my best. You know I’m not good at holding things.”

Ranboo laughed at that, feeling his mood lighten a little bit from the dark, shadowy emotions that had been plaguing him since the night before.

__________

It was several hours later when the two made their way back out of the mines, smiling and covered in dirt and grime. Ranboo still had conflicting feelings over being underground - it was comforting, in a familiar sort of way, but it also reminded him of years of self-imposed solitude. Ghostbur had kept up cheery conversation, however, and the encroaching feelings of loneliness had soon faded. Now, as they headed back to L’manburg, Ranboo’s spirits were higher than they had been in days. They didn’t even dampen when he ran smack into Quackity, laughing at one of Ghostbur’s jokes and not looking where he was going.

“Sorry about that!” Ranboo said good-naturedly. “I’m a bit of a clutz sometimes. I think it’s the overly-long limbs.” He waved his arms slightly to back up his point.

Instead of brushing it off with a smile, like Quackity would normally do, the man just shot him a bitter glare and pushed his way past, muttering something about “idiot fucking children.” 

Ranboo watched him go with astonishment. Quackity would call him an idiot sometimes - Quackity would call anyone an idiot if they deserved it - but he was always lighthearted and teasing. The irritated flick of feathers as he receded into the distance portrayed true intent behind Quackity’s tone, which troubled Ranboo greatly. Plus, he smelled faintly of booze, which was odd. Quackity didn’t really drink, as far as Ranboo was aware. Something about Schlatt and broken relationships and trauma.

Ghostbur had come up behind Ranboo’s shoulder, and now joined him in watching Quackity stomp off away from L’manburg. 

“Did he seem weird to you?” Ranboo asked, turning towards the ghost. “I haven’t known him for that long, but I don’t think Quackity normally acts like that.”

Ghostbur’s face darkened, features hardening into a look of vicious contempt so brief that Ranboo thought he must have imagined it. His expression smoothed out into one of innocent confusion, and Ghostbur merely shrugged. “Maybe he’s just having a bad day.”

“Maybe.” Ranboo replied, unconvinced.

That night, the nightmares that plagued Ranboo’s sleeping hours were stronger and more vivid than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that chapter wasn't, like, super depressing, but the story may get a bit darker from here. So, be warned, I guess? I'll still try to include fluffier parts though, I don't want the fic to be unpleasant to read. Also, if you're looking for fluffier oneshots in general I am writing stuff for the month of December - they aren't terribly plot-y and they're pretty short, but I just wanted to write something fun.
> 
> Have a great rest of your day, and I'll try to get the next chapter up in about a week or so!


	5. Alone with a god does not count as company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream visits Tommy in exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a couple of notes:  
> 1\. This chapter is very short, which I apologize for. Unfortunately, brevity was required for the mood I wanted for the chapter.  
> 2\. Unlike the other chapters, the point of view in this is third-person objective instead of third-person limited omniscient (What the other chapters are written in). If you don't like this style, or think it's strange, don't worry! I won't be using it often, I just thought it would better fit the more detached, observational vibe I wanted for this chapter.  
> 3\. This chapter deals with Tommy and Dream while Tommy's in exile. If you've watched any of Tommy's streams recently, you'll know that character!Dream is a bit of a manipulative bastard. So, be cognizant of that as you read, if that sort of thing bothers you.

In a small field next to a forest, far, far away from the lights and laughter of L’manburg, sits a boy. He is alone, and his clothes are beaten and ragged. He has on a set of dented metal armor. It is poorly made. One might even assume that the boy had made it himself.

There is soft music playing, filling the air with notes of quiet melancholy. The boy sways lightly in tune with the music, as much as one can sway when hunched over in the grass. His focus is on an object in his hand. It’s a compass, small and silver, seemingly innocuous save for the slight purple shimmer - a telltale sign of enchantment. 

The boy holds the compass up to the sky, murmuring something to it under his breath. He looks sad.

His demeanor changes entirely at the sound of someone approaching. The boy shoves the compass hastily in the green chest sitting next to him, slamming the lid shut as he stands to greet the newcomer. The small click of the locking mechanism loosens some of the tension in his shoulders; his personal possession now safely tucked away.

The newcomer walks with an air of authority. Emerald eyes glint behind a white ivory mask, cold and impersonal. He wears no armor, a casual green hoodie his only protection. Although he looks like a man, he exudes the power of a god. He smiles as he approaches the boy, yet the expression is laced with a hidden malice.

The boy wearily begins to remove his battered armor, leaving it in a pile at his feet. He steps away and gestures at it, and the man pulls out a flint and steel. The boy watches wordlessly as the man burns his possessions, wearing a look of tired resignation.

“Now that that’s done, how are you doing, Tommy?” The man asks, his friendly tone in stark contrast with the contemptuous smirk that hides behind his eyes.

Tommy - as the boy seems to be named - looks down at the ground, kicking at the dirt half-heartedly. He doesn’t answer. 

“Now, now, Tommy.” The man says, approaching Tommy gently as if he were a startled animal. He takes the boy’s face in his hands, tilting it up and away from the grass below them. “I know you’re lonely, it’s ok. That’s why I’m here.”

Tommy refuses to meet the man’s eyes. He continues on anyway.

“Everyone else has abandoned you. Tubbo, Phil, everyone in L’manburg. But I haven’t. I’m here for you, Tommy. I’m your friend. Your brother.”

Seemingly snapped out of his daze, Tommy pulls weakly against the hands on his face. He mutters something, but it’s too quiet to properly decipher. It sounds a bit like “Techno.”

The man merely chuckles, as one would when faced with a child’s innocent ignorance. “Techno’s in retirement, Tommy. You can’t bother him. I doubt he even wants to see you.”

The boy looks like he wants to protest, a small flicker of defiance glimmering in his otherwise-emotionless eyes. He remains still anyway.

“He doesn’t care about you, Tommy. They don’t care about you.” The man’s grip tightens, fingers digging into Tommy’s face with an underlying danger. A reminder that the man’s friendliness is an exception. Kindness is not the default. “I’m the only one who cares about you, Tommy.”

Tommy finally meets the man’s eyes. The defiance has drained from his expression, leaving only empty acceptance.

“Good.” the man says, smiling once more. He steps away from the boy. “I’m going to go off for a bit, get some things for you. You’re very poor, Tommy. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a bit.”

And with that, the man disappeared into the night almost as quickly as he had come. 

The boy crumples to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. The music is still humming quietly in the background. He doesn’t seem to notice it. Nor does he reach for the green hued chest, or the small, compass-shaped comfort that lay within it.

Instead, Tommy curls up around himself, burying his face in his knees. His shoulders shake slightly, but if he’s crying, it can’t be heard over the sad lone notes of a song’s end. The disc lulls briefly before starting back up at the beginning.

The boy is once again alone.

He stays like that for a long time.


	6. Yellow wings and Fuzzy centaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo sees Quackity again, and becomes familiarized with Sam's new build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is really just sort of filler. I actually wrote chapter 7 before this one, but it includes stuff with Tommy and it felt weird to have two Tommy chapters in a row. The 7th chapter should be out very soon though, since it's already written.
> 
> Also, disclaimer: I wrote most of this chapter at Very Late o'clock with Very Little sleep, so please forgive any typos or discontinuities. If I reread it when I wake up in the morning and it's incompletely incomprehensible, I'll take it down and fix it up lol

It had been several months, since Ranboo had last heard from Tommy. He sent notes sometimes, letters hastily written while the ever-watching gaze of Dream was turned, but Ghostbur had been MIA for a while now, and he was the only one allowed or even capable to visit Tommy (aside from Dream himself, of course, but Ranboo didn’t trust him.) Ranboo was a bit concerned at his absence, but everyone else seemed either too busy or too tired to notice L’manburg’s distinct lack of ghost.

Ranboo had only brought it up once, to Tubbo, but the frazzled president just waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he had said. “Ghostbur’s translucent and can move through things. He probably just got stuck in a mountain somewhere.”

Ranboo didn’t have the heart to tell Tubbo that his explanation made little sense.

The sun was sitting low in the sky, and Ranboo was conducting his futile daily ritual of searching for a dead man, when he happened upon one of the few server residents he had never seen before.

High up off the ground, terraforming a raised plateau, was a large green… centaur?

The distinct features of the figure were difficult to perceive, but he seemed to have both a fuzzy green quadruplet of legs and a pair of humanoid (but still green) arms. With him was a short, demon-looking creature in black and red hood, fangs showing as he smiled at something the green man said.

Badboyhalo’s appearance was quite deceiving, Ranboo thought, as the demon gave him a warm wave before returning to his work. The centaur -  _ did it even count as a centaur if he wasn’t part horse? -  _ leaned down to ask Bad a question, and the two of them were once again occupied. Ranboo returned to his walk.

As he passed the large plateau, Ranboo spotted Quackity. He was sitting at the very edge, dangling his legs off the side. His wings were splayed out leisurely behind him, the pale yellow feathers turning purple and gold in the dying sunlight. Even from a distance, Ranboo could see the dark shadow cast by the rigid lines on his face. His right hand clutched the neck of a bottle so tightly that it turned his knuckles white.

Ranboo, who had been staring, (a rather poor habit he had, but one that persisted nonetheless) watched as Quackity’s face began to shift. The muscles in his jaw and temple unclenched, and the harsh lines softened into a more easygoing expression. Quackity looked around with some bewilderment, before glancing at the bottle in his hand. The death grip he had on the bottle lightened as he furrowed his eyebrows at it. He looked even more confused, as if he didn’t know how it had gotten there.

Ranboo’s staring must have been a tad too obvious, because Quacky’s head shot up. But instead of a death glare, Ranboo was faced with a large grin. Quackity waved at him so exuberantly that he accidentally dropped the bottle that he was holding. It shattered on the ground far below.

As Ranboo turned back away, he heard a distant “Whoops” and something about “Having two left hands.” The change in Quackity seemed a bit sudden, but if he was feeling more like his old self and less like the strange, grumpy person he had become, then Ranboo was glad. Quackity used to be silly and fun, apparently, and the entirety of L’manburg was waiting for his sour mood to pass.

Everyone had bad days anyway, Ranboo thought to himself. Or bad weeks. Or a bad month, in Quackity’s case. But it was probably only temporary. After all, most moods were.

__________

Evening had finally sunk in properly when Ranboo was finished with his walk. The moon was bright and the stars shone with a hopeful sparkle. Ranboo gazed up at the little specks of light, and found himself wondering if Tommy was seeing the same stars. He tried not to think of the other boy often - the harsh reality of Tommy’s predicament made Ranboo want to curl up into a ball out of sympathy - but on nights like these his mind couldn’t help but wander towards the other’s experiences. Had Dream visited recently? Had Ghostbur? Was Tommy alone underneath the stars? Did he stare at them too, and think of his faraway friends and country? Of his discs and of Tubbo?

Tubbo had gotten a compass of his own. Ghostbur had made two out of the iron he and Ranboo had mined, and gave one to each of the friends. Ranboo didn’t think he'd ever seen Tubbo put his compass down - it seemed to be permanently clutched in his left hand. Sometimes Ranboo would see him fiddle with it during particularly long meetings, turning it over and over in his hands while his face creased with lines of contemplation and internal conflict too grown-up for someone his age.

By the time Ranboo had circled back to the strange overhanging mass of dirt both Quackity and Bad were gone, leaving only the strange green centaur. By process of elimination - Ranboo had met most people on the server by now, or at least knew enough about them to know they had less than four legs - he determined that the centaur was Sam, redstone builder and resident of the Badlands.

Determined to push back against his fear (The sheer height and number of limbs the hybrid possessed was franky quite terrifying) Ranboo tentatively called out “Sam, I heard- I heard you were building a prison. Could I see it? At least, the outside?” 

Ranboo would be lying if he said the mysterious, inescapable prison Dream had commissioned wasn't at least a tad bit intriguing.

Sam dropped the dirt block he was holding and dusted off his clawed hands, shooting Ranboo a friendly smile. “Did someone ask for a prison tour?”

Sam’s voice was warm and a bit rumbly, and Ranbo immediately felt dumb for being scared of him at all. “I  _ did  _ ask for a prison tour!” he replied enthusiastically. 

“Alright, come with me.”

As they headed away from the L’manburg area, Sam turned to Ranboo. “It’s Ra- Rah- It’s pronounced  _ Rahn _ -boo, right?”

Ranboo shrugged. “Eh, everyone pronounces it differently. It doesn’t really matter, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s your  _ name. _ You should tell people to pronounce it right.”

Ranboo snorted. “Yeah right, I’ll just stroll up to Dream and be like ‘hey, omnipotent and short-tempered man, you’re pronouncing my name wrong’. That’s a good idea.”

Sam had pulled far ahead - apparently having four legs had its advantages, as even with his excessive height Ranboo was struggling to keep up. Sam sighed, and with one swift movement he scooped Ranboo off the ground and twisted around, setting him on his back. Ranboo barely had time to get a grip, grasping desperately at Sam's golden armour as the man set off at a quick canter, his clawed feet pushing off the ground with ease.

Ranboo was a bit disgruntled at being treated like a child who couldn’t walk on his own, but he was lazy and in all honesty he really did  _ not  _ want to walk all the way to the prison. So, he tolerated the action and instead picked the conversation back up.

“Have you heard from Dream about anyone who is going to be put in it- in the jail? You don’t have to tell me who, but have you heard any names?”

“No, no. He just said, ‘I need a prison where no one can escape.’ and I said ‘ok.’ And so I built this huge monstrosity.”

Ranboo peaked over Sam’s fluffy shoulder as the prison came into view, and his jaw nearly dropped.

Sitting out on the water, made of smooth black brick, was an enormous building. It was studded with thick stone columns, and giant imposing towers stood at each corner. Inside the towers a golden bubble of gold flowed, the barely-contained danger of the lava setting an ominous tone over the entirety of the building. It was big, and almost beautiful, but it’s positive traits were drowned out by the air of misery the building exuded.

Ranboo did his best to compliment Sam for every feature, which wasn’t difficult - although it was frightening, the prison seemed to hold a quiet dignity. Plus, it was  _ huge. _

As the tour wore on, Ranboo felt himself becoming more and more fearful of the walls raised high above his head, trapping him in. He imagined what it would be like to live in a place so dreary - days that blended together, all the same. No friends, no family, no pets, just solitude. For the second time that day Ranboo found himself in someone else’s metaphorical shoes. 

_ This must be what Tommy feels, all the time.  _ God, what an awful thought. It was no wonder Tommy wasn’t answering his letters.

If he were in Tommy’s position, Ranboo wouldn’t respond to letters either. 

As he surveyed the sturdy, careful-crafted walls of the prison, one solitary thought rattled in Ranboo’s brain like a pinball.

_ Oh god, I really hope Dream doesn’t decide to lock me in here. _


	7. New Homes Found (and old thoughts abandoned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy hits a breaking point with Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this right after yesterday's stream, but couldn't post it till today. So, heavy spoilers for Tommy's 12/15 stream, I suppose.
> 
> Also! Although nothing actually happens, some stuff is implied/. This chapter isn't more intense then any of Tommy's more recent streams, but if those have upset you then I advise you to tread carefully.

Tommy stands, gazing at the massive, smoking pit that used to be Logstedshire. His home away from home, his bitter, feeble attempt to be normal. To have a life, even one that’s stripped of all friendship and social contact. Dream had destroyed it.

With tnt too, the fucker. Tommy’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the red glint of the explosive. He had spiraled into a panic, head filled with images of jagged rocks and gaping craters and nations destroyed.  _ Blood on his father’s hands, and his brother’s chest. The gleam of frenzied chaos in the eyes of his other brother. His family, a trio of traitors. _

Then there was a great  _ boom,  _ and Logstedshire was no more.

Dream was talking now, tone dripping with condescension. Tommy couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t matter. Tommy knew what Dream was saying. What Dream would always tell him, when the man came to visit.

_ This is your fault, Tommy. You’ve done this to yourself. Look at yourself. Look at where you live! This place is a shithole. You’ve condemned yourself to life in a shithole, Tommy. If only you were better. If only you behaved. _

_ You aren’t good enough to see your friends. _

_ You aren’t good enough to have friends. _

_ I’m your only friend. _

Tommy faintly heard the sound of footsteps receding, but it was drowned out by the swirling of thoughts in his head. The only thing he caught was a faint call from Dream, his final words before leaving Tommy in his misery:

“I’ll be back, don’t worry. I'll be back to watch you.”

Tommy had had enough.

His items were gone. His home was gone - the poor, half-built wooden structures whose familiarity was almost comforting. There was no comfort now.

Not even Ghostbur was here, Tommy truly had nothing and no one.

He started to build.

Tommy towered until the sun receded behind him, a dark indigo spilling across a bright but lifeless sky. The wind was chilly and the air was thin, but Tommy was too concentrated on his task to notice the shortening of his breath. Soon he had risen above even the clouds, their deceptively fluffy embrace damping his torn and dust-smeared clothes.

By the time Tommy stopped, the entirety of his lands of exile spread before him. Stars shimmered under the blanket of the night sky, and as Tommy looked to them all he could think of was his home. His true home, miles away and forever out of his reach. Did the same sky twinkle down on the residents of L’manburg, casting them in its gracious light? Did they look up at the stars too, contemplating the loneliness of friends left behind? Did Tubbo look at the stars, and miss Tommy and much as Tommy was missing him now?

Tommy pulled out a crumpled painting. The faces of himself and his best friend stared back at him, smiling with a sort of cheer and exuberance Tommy knew he was no longer capable of. Tommy could no longer recognize the people in the painting. Was that really what the two of them were like, before the wars and greed of senseless adults had pulled them apart?

Tommy would give anything to go back to that blissful existence.

Tommy would give anything just to be a child again.

Unfortunately, the hands of time are immovable in their steady tic forward, always pushing Tommy on into problems he was too tired to face. There was one chance at escape, and all Tommy had to do now was muster up the courage to take it.

Dream’s words came swirling back, haunting Tommy as they always did, echoing in his head like light bouncing off a thousand mirrors.

_ “I’ll be back, don’t worry. I'll be back to watch you.” _

Dream was his friend. His only friend, in the bastardized mess of a life Tommy had found himself in. Dream cared about him. He’d come to visit Tommy, and they’d laugh, and Dream would blow up his stuff…

_ That doesn’t seem like friend behavior,  _ a small voice piped up in the back of Tommy’s mind. It sounded suspiciously like Tubbo.

“And his last words, his last words were ‘I’ll see you every week, to come and watch you.’” Tommy didn’t know when he had begun to voice his thoughts out loud. They were quiet and shaky, but the noise was enough to cut through the serene silence of the night. Tommy was so high up he couldn’t even hear the wind whistling against his tower of stone. All he could hear was himself. How fitting.

“Well, now you won’t. You won’t…” Tommy heard his own voice trail off as he disappeared inside his own mind once more. The thoughts were swirling fast and chaotic, as if caught up in a whirlpool. They were trying to tell him something, the last piece of a previously-obscured puzzle, but Tommy couldn’t piece them together enough for an answer.

_ He’d come to watch you?  _ The Tubbo-like voice prompted.

“He’d come and watch me. He’d come and watch me. He said he’d come back every week to- to-”

And just like that, the stray puzzle piece popped into place.

Tommy swept his gaze across the world splayed out below him, then once more retrieved the crumpled painting. He stared at the two smiling boys. Their happiness may have become foreign to him, but the people themselves were not. It was him and Tubbo. He  _ knew  _ Tubbo, unflinchingly kind and unyieldingly stubborn, always determined to do what’s best for the greater good. He knew  _ himself _ , the great Tommyinnit, who refused to give up for anything. Why was he leaving that person behind, the person that he used to be?

_ He’d come to  _ watch  _ you,  _ said the voice, the meaning behind the words now as clear as the stars in the sky.

Dream didn’t  _ care  _ for him. Dream wasn’t his  _ friend.  _ Dream was a bitch and a liar. How had Tommy forgotten that? Dream only stuck around to keep an eye on him, but why?

Cause he was the  _ one thing  _ Dream was afraid of. He was the only one willing to stand up to the prissy, power-hungry tyrant of a god.

Holy shit. Dream, the big bad monster, stalker of nightmares, in all his omnipotent glory, was  _ scared of Tommyinnit. _

Tommy let out a great big whoop as he leapt off the tower, angling himself towards the miniaturized lake below. The impact of the water was like hitting concrete, but Tommy didn’t even care about the bruises his ribs would have tomorrow. He was back. Tommyinnit was back! Gone was the sad and sorry Tommy, pushed around and manipulated by a green bastard with a god complex. That Tommy had died up on the tower. 

The sun had begun to rise again, the first rays of morning poking up from behind the snowy mountains in the distance. The waxing brightness served as a secondary compass to Tommy, leading him where he needed to go. His other, more important compass, was tucked safely in his left hand. Its little red arrow pointed in a direction he could not go, although it tugged lightly on his heartstrings like gentle river current. Tommy ignored it, choosing to be satisfied with the knowledge that his best friend was alive and well. Even if Tommy couldn’t visit him, Tubbo was safe. The slight heartbeat of the compass against his hand proved that.

Instead, Tommy headed towards the mountains, squinting his eyes against the sharp light reflected off the snow. He happened upon a chest with netherite armor as he left the vestiges of his old camp. It was battered and worn, but it was protection. Lady Luck was smiling on him once again, it seemed.

And, as he turned one last time to bid goodbye to the torturous memories left behind in the ruins, Tommyinnit smiled back.


	8. Dealing with Siblings (Hypothermia Would be Better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tommy finds a place to stay and Techno abuses a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so ik Techno really went and said no canon for sbi, but this story isn't really that canon anymore anyway so I figured whatever. Techno and Tommy b brothers.
> 
> Also, this chapter was originally much more eventful, but it got too long so I had to split it into multiple parts.

The sun beat down harshly on Tommy’s back, but it does nothing to dissuade the icy chill permeating his body. He had been walking for hours now, traveling miles across mountains and forests and open fields. The sun was just peaking over the horizon when he ventured off, and judging by its current position it was now late afternoon.

Tommy could barely feel his legs. They had gone completely numb from the knees down, causing him to stumble along through the deep snow. The past several hours of Tommy’s journey had been through the cold, arctic wasteland, and he was beginning to lose hope. The staunch resilience and determination he started his journey with seemed to fade with each weary step, and Tommy felt more lost than ever. The only locational device he had pointed towards a place he couldn’t go, leaving him alone and stranded in a foot and a half of snow with no real direction or destination in mind.

Why had he decided this was a good idea? Why did he choose to do this, to wander off into the wilderness by himself with nothing but old, battered armor and a useless compass?

_ Better here in the snow than out there with Dream,  _ said the Tubbo-voice. Tommy had taken up talking to it over the journey, in an attempt to fend off the creeping fear and loneliness. 

“Is it really?” Tommy asked. “It’s very cold.”

_ Yes, but Dream is a bitch. He blew up your stuff, remember? Hey, why’d you stop? Keep walking!” _

“But I can’t feel my legs,” Tommy whined in response. 

_ Movement will warm you up. C’mon, keep going. _

Tommy begrudgingly forced his legs to move, continuing his slow trod forward. It took vast amounts of mental strain just to move one leg, and Tommy’s pace was barely faster than a standstill, but at least he was moving. He didn’t have his armor anymore - he had stripped it all off when it became too heavy to walk in - so Tommy would be easy prey to mobs if he couldn’t find a place by sunset.

After what felt like years of unbearable slogging through the cold, bright snow, Tubbo-voice piped up again. Tommy’s vision was hazy and swimming with fatigue, but he saw a small shape in the far distance.

_ It’s a house!  _ The voice said.  _ That’s good, it’ll be safe there. Safe and warm. _

Tommy was much too exhausted to consider that someone had to own the house he was stumbling towards, and that that said someone might not take kindly to intruders. The only thought running through his muddled, ice-bitten brain was  _ warm-safe-sleep _

It took an excruciating amount of effort to get up the front stairs of the house, but the door was surprisingly unlocked. Tommy didn’t think twice before pushing it open and staggering into the house’s warm embrace.

Tommy was looking at his feet when he entered (He’d taken to staring at them as he walked - he couldn’t feel them anymore, so it helped him to keep balance), but when he glanced up, he stopped dead in his tracks. His mind cleared instantly, adrenaline and fear burning away the cloudy fog that had built up in his brain.

The interior of the cabin was nice, and cozy. A fire burned to the left, providing the space with much-needed warmth. The smoothed-down wood of the dark floors were half-covered by a collection of fur rugs, and even the walls held the occasional painting or tapestry. Chests lined the back of the room, sitting next to a quietly humming furnace. In the very corner was a small wooden boat, holding a stray enderman with shiny purple eyes. There was a tag on the enderman’s wrist that simply read “Edward.”

It was not the mob that had grabbed Tommy’s attention, however. Instead, his fearful eyes were focused on the slightly worn couch in the middle of the room. Sitting on it, decked in warm blue robes and sporting a new, shoulder-length cut to his pale pink hair, was the blood god himself:

Technoblade.

__________

Techno had been expecting Tommy. Not right that minute, of course, but he assumed that the boy would come join him in retirement as soon as he got bored of his own little nation of exile. Logsteadshire, that was what Ghostbur had called it the last time Techno had seen him. The ghost had been MIA for about a month now, but Techno assumed Tommy was still back in his one-person country, content to play president for just a bit longer. He was sure to come by eventually, once the loneliness got to him.

And so, when his little brother stumbled through the doorway looking as if he’d just had a fistfight with death, Techno was not all that surprised. Instead, he just heaved himself off the couch and headed towards the fireplace, where he had been heating himself some mushroom soup. He could always make himself some more later, and what with how cold he looked, Tommy probably needed it more anyway.

“You’ve finally showed up,” Techno greeted as he ladled some soup into a bowl. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long. Logstedshire must have been real interesting, it usually doesn’t take much for you to-”

Techno’s words died in his throat as he turned back around and looked,  _ truly _ looked at his little brother for the first time. He was shivering, which was unsurprising due to the cold, but his skin was pale and ghostly, and clung to his cheekbones more than what seemed healthy. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to look like bruises, and his clothes were ripped and smudged with dirt, blood, and melted snow. The most troubling thing, however, were his eyes themselves - gray and glassy, but still glimering sharply with fear and confusion.

“Tommy,” Techno asked, unintentionally letting some concern seep into his tone. “Tommy, are you ok?”

Tommy didn’t answer, just remained frozen in place in the open doorway.

“Tommy, come inside, you’re letting the cold air in.”

Tommy still didn’t move, only breaking from his petrified state to flinch away from Techno as he approached. 

Feeling uncomfortably like Phil, Techno placed the bowl of soup in Tommy’s hands and guided him towards the couch, sitting him down and shooting him with a no-nonsense look before closing and latching the front door.

Tommy had apparently come to the conclusion that Techno was not a threat - or at least, not a threat he could deal with at the moment - and had settled down with his soup. He only got halfway through the bowl before casting it aside, however, which worried Techno.

“You aren’t going to finish your soup?”

Tommy looked away. “I’m not hungry.”

“You look like a sentient wither skeleton, Tommy. Have you even been eating anything this past month?”

Tommy still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Why haven’t you been eating?” It came out harsher than Techno really meant, but his worry was only growing.

When Tommy finally answered, his voice was much smaller than usual. “Dream kept burning all my food. And like, my armor and stuff too. He's a real bitch sometimes, y’know.”

“He  _ what- _ ” Techno cut himself off, turning to pace sharply around the room. He rubbed his temples harshly as the voices in his exploded, bouncing off the insides of his skull in a cacophony of anger. He really wanted to hit something, but Tommy still looked jumpy and Techno did not want to scare him off. Not if it meant him running back to Dream-

Dream, who was supposed to be  _ looking out for him.  _ Dream who had promised Techno he’d keep Tommy safe in exile, keep him company. Help him with mining, and make sure he’s fed, and light up his camp to protect him from mobs. That bastard had sworn to look after Techno’s little brother, and instead he had  _ starved  _ him? What kind of no-good, sick, self-absorbed-

_ Crunch _

Techno had failed in his attempt to restrain his anger, as a rough, splinter-filled hole stared back at him from the wall. Techno’s knuckles stung.

He turned back to Tommy, who looked very much like he was worried he’d done something wrong. “Why didn’t you come here? Why didn’t you come and tell me?”

Tommy hung his head, as if embarrassed. “Dream said you wouldn’t want to see me. That you didn’t care about me.”

The hole in the wall got a twin as rage crashed over Techno once again. He shook his hand out, taking a brief moment to calm himself before approaching Tommy. He unclasped his cloak to wrap it around Tommy’s shoulders. “Well, Dream is an idiot. And you're an idiot for believing him. Sure, you're annoying sometimes, but it’s nothing I'm not already used to. Now,” he said, retrieving the abandoned bowl. “Finish your soup.”

Tommy obliged, taking the bowl from Techno. His face seemed to have cleared of some its original apprehension, the old, mischievous sparkle igniting in his eyes again. “So, what’s with the roommate? Did you finally get a girlfriend?”

“That’s just Edward. He won’t leave, and it’s generally considered rude to murder your houseguests. Besides, he reminds the voices of that one strange man I saw ages ago, and now they wouldn’t let me kill him even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, you mean Ranboo?” Tommy snickered. “Man, I wonder what he’s doing.”

“Oh god, the strange tall creature has a name? Please don’t tell the voices, they’ll never shut up about it.” It was too late though, as the voices took this new information and gleefully ran with it.

_ Ranboo!  _ They chanted.  _ Ranboo RANboo ranboob raaaaaanbOOOO _

“They’re gonna be like this for the next hour.” Techno dropped his face into his hands with a groan of exasperation. “This is your fault, Tommy. You’ve done this.”

Tommy merely cackled wildly and called him a bitch.

Techno stormed out of the room to look for bandages for his hand, regretting every single one of his life choices that led him to this.

Well, not really.

Because as much of a pain as Tommy was, Techno was more than willing to deal with a little bit of screaming if it meant keeping him safe.

_ God,  _ he really was turning into Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, I do technically have the next four chapters planned out, but I still gotta write everything. I'd like to promise the next chapter in a couple of days, but considering my track record that feels a tad unrealistic. I'll try my best.
> 
> On a different note, happy holidays to everyone who celebrates this time of year! Have a great week <3


End file.
